


samson

by towine (blacktreecle)



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, M/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-20
Updated: 2019-10-20
Packaged: 2020-12-24 14:50:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21101276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blacktreecle/pseuds/towine
Summary: Claude pushes Dimitri’s hair aside and drifts his fingers over his neck. “It’s a trust thing, then?”“Of course it is.” Dimitri turns his head so he can look back at Claude. “I want it to be you. Please.”Claude is tasked with the inevitable: giving Dimitri a haircut.





	samson

**Author's Note:**

> ugh, these two, THESE TWO.... i was hoping to bang out something longer for dimiclaude because i love them so much, but this felt like an easier first dip into their voices. grooming as an act of intimacy feels like an inevitability for all my ships HAHA and it's unsurprising that this is one of them. i hope you enjoy it!
> 
> thank you artenon for the quick beta :')

“You’re sure about this?”

“Yes.”

“You’re absolutely, completely, undoubtedly certain that I’m the one—”

“Claude.” Dimitri glances back at him over his shoulder. “I have told you several times already.”

“I know, I know, but.” Claude runs his hand through Dimitri’s hair, watches the strands fall from between his fingers and settle against Dimitri’s bare back. It nearly reaches his shoulder blades now, far longer than Claude has ever seen it. A few more months and he’ll be giving Ferdinand a run for his money.

When he slips his fingers through Dimitri’s hair again, Dimitri sighs and leans back ever so slightly into Claude’s touch. Claude’s face heats up.

“Will you miss it?” he asks.

“Hm?” Dimitri hums as if waking from sleep. “Oh, not particularly. It gets in the way a lot. I should be glad to see it gone.”

“Makes sense.” Claude idly curls a lock around his finger. “But it’s kind of nice, too. Regal-looking.”

“Felix doesn’t seem to think so. He keeps saying it will hinder my vision and give an enemy ample opportunity to gut me.”

“Last I checked, Felix doesn’t exactly have short hair, either.”

Dimitri stifles a laugh into his hand. “Yes, but I believe he has a point, regardless. At least he ties his hair back.”

“Couldn’t you do the same?” Claude meets Dimitri’s gaze through the mirror in front of them.

Dimitri blinks, a smile curling slightly on his mouth. “I am beginning to think you like it.”

“’Beginning’?” Claude scoffs. “Hasn’t it always been obvious?”

Dimitri’s hair isn’t Claude’s only fixation, but how can he ignore it whenever Dimitri leans over him, gold hair spilling over his shoulders, hiding the rest of the world away like a curtain? Or when Claude curls his fingers into Dimitri’s scalp and grips, just tight enough, and makes Dimitri gasp. What else will he have to hold on to when Dimitri drops him into bed, his hands suddenly everywhere, and all Claude can think to do is slide a hand into his hair and wrap his thighs around Dimitri’s waist—

Ahem. In any case...

“It’s your choice what you do with your hair,” Claude says. “Of course I like it. But I’ll always like you, long hair or short.”

That sends a flush through Dimitri’s face, bright enough to reach the tips of his ears. Claude grins at how cute it is.

He adds, “I’m more confused by the fact that you want _me_ to do this instead of someone with more experience. Hilda, for example, is very good about hair maintenance.”

“But I did not ask Hilda to do it,” Dimitri says. “And before you ask, no, I do not want Felix to do it, either. I know he’s skilled with a blade, but that doesn’t mean I trust him to cut my hair.”

Claude pushes Dimitri’s hair aside and drifts his fingers over his neck. “It’s a trust thing, then?”

“Of course it is.” Dimitri turns his head so he can look back at Claude. “I want it to be you. Please.”

It still amazes him sometimes to see Dimitri place so much faith in him. Claude doesn’t always know what to do with that faith, or how long he will be allowed to hold it. A blind spot of his, knowing how to trust and be trusted. But day by day, it gets a little easier with Dimitri.

So Claude leans in to press a kiss to his forehead, then says, “Well, only because you asked so nicely. Face forward.”

Dimitri smiles, and Claude knows there’s little he wouldn’t do if it meant seeing a smile like that.

He picks up the scissors resting on the lip of the sink. “Don’t be upset with me if you end up with lopsided hair.”

“You have a steadier hand than that. Besides, you don’t need to do anything complicated. Just trim it.”

“Easier said than done.” Claude grimaces. At least he’s seen Hilda cut their comrades’ hair on a few occasions. There’s no way he’ll accomplish this with any of the finesse that she does, but he won’t make Dimitri into the laughing stock of the Kingdom. He hopes.

He takes a breath, tilts Dimitri’s head a little forward with one hand, and poises the scissors.

He cuts.

Pieces of gold hair fall to the floor, some of it sticking to Dimitri’s skin. The air is humid from Dimitri’s recent bath, and his skin and hair are damp as well. Claude feels himself getting warm, though whether that’s from the heat of the room or how flustered he feels being trusted with this task, he can’t say. But he wills his hands to move with confidence, using one to slide a comb through Dimitri’s hair and the other to cut the uneven ends into a straight line.

“How short do you want it?” Claude asks as he works.

“As short as you’re comfortable cutting it.” Dimitri watches Claude through the mirror. “Did you ever cut your own hair?”

“Used to. Until Hilda came along and took the scissors out of my hand because she knew she could do a better job. She was right, of course, but I took the habit up again when the war happened.”

“Mm.” Dimitri grows quiet, as he often does when talk of those particular five years arises.

Claude continues, “Nowadays, someone does it for me. But I’m not completely inexperienced, if that gives you any comfort.”

Dimitri says nothing for a moment, and Claude glances up to see a pensive look on his face.

Then Dimitri says, “I used to cut my own bangs.”

It surprises Claude enough to stop cutting. Dimitri explains further, “Dedue always insisted he do it, but I wanted to do it myself. In hindsight, I really should have listened to him.”

Claude stares. “I… Is that why your bangs—?”

“Looked the way they did? Yes.” Dimitri is blushing again, fidgeting with his hands. When Claude doesn’t speak for a while, he says, “Claude?”

Claude starts to laugh, and he raises a hand to cover his face when he does. The laughing doesn’t stop. He drops his forehead against the crown of Dimitri’s head, laughing all the while. At least he has the sense of mind to put the scissors down.

“Claude.” Dimitri’s voice is firmer this time. “Alright, that is enough laughing at my expense, don’t you think?

“I’m so sorry—” Claude’s voice wavers as he tries to hold back a laugh. He fails. “Goddess… I’m sorry, Dimitri, I just—all this time, I didn’t know.” He muffles a giggle into Dimitri’s damp hair.

Dimitri sighs. Claude’s eyes are squeezed shut with mirth and he feels Dimitri shift around, just before two warm hands cup his face.

Claude blinks his eyes open, still trying to muffle his laughter. His cheeks ache.

“I’m sorry,” he says again.

“No you’re not,” Dimitri says. His face is close. He’s smiling, in that exasperatedly fond way he does so often. Claude has never understood how it isn’t genuine annoyance.

“Well, I can’t lie and say I wasn’t absolutely delighted by your little secret.”

“You made that abundantly clear.”

“But I _am _sorry that I stopped in the middle of your haircut. I’ll get back to it now.”

Dimitri drags his thumb over Claude’s cheek. And damn it all, Claude still feels his breath stutter. He’s half-inclined to stop the haircut right here and tug Dimitri in closer, but he wraps a hand around Dimitri’s wrist and gently pulls his hand away.

“Come on, I’m almost done,” he says and nudges Dimitri to turn around.

“Fine.” Dimitri complies. “I already feel much lighter, I have to say.”

Claude’s cut his hair a little shorter than his jawline. The long strands that fall into his face still need work, but Claude is trying to cut them in a way that still frames his face and forehead nicely. Claude cards his fingers through them, pushing them away from Dimitri’s face in a way he hopes looks artfully messy.

“Are you trying to make my hair look like yours?” Dimitri asks.

“No…” Claude says distractedly, watching the way Dimitri’s hair tousles.

“Claude.”

“Okay, you can’t blame me for being a little inspired. I’ve only ever cut my own hair. But your hair doesn’t behave the same as mine so it looks different, I promise.”

“If you say so.” Dimitri shifts in his seat, looking embarrassed. “Do I… look alright?”

Claude examines Dimitri’s reflection. In certain ways, he looks reminiscent of how he did back at the Officer’s Academy, only his bangs don’t look nearly as haphazard as Claude remembers. It’s a little messy now from Claude playing with it, but with some combing and a little product—which Claude will demonstrate later—he’s certain Dimitri will look like a noble, refined king.

He looks downright appetizing, Claude wants to say, but he’s embarrassed Dimitri enough for one night.

“I think you look great,” he says while brushing stray strands from Dimitri’s shoulders. “What do you think?”

He blinks in surprise when Dimitri turns around in his seat so he can face him. It feels strange to look down at him for once. He reaches out for Claude’s waist and tugs him in a little closer, and Claude lets him. He drapes his arms over Dimitri’s shoulders, curls his fingers into the now short hair at Dimitri’s nape. Dimitri’s hands tighten on Claude’s waist.

The kiss comes slowly, Claude’s mouth dropping over Dimitri’s and swallowing his exhale. One of Dimitri’s hands settles over Claude’s lower back, his palm wide and warm through Claude’s shirt. Claude melts into it, lets Dimitri bear his weight a little more because he knows he can.

When they part, Claude is breathless.

“That’s one hell of a thank you,” Claude says, feeling warm all the way down to his toes.

“I don’t know,” Dimitri murmurs. His gaze is dark. “I think there’s a better way I could tell you.”

“Your Majesty,” Claude gasps and lightly slaps Dimitri’s shoulder. “How scandalous!”

Dimitri rolls his eye and rises to his feet. Claude suddenly finds himself being towered over again, and he’d be lying if he said he didn’t feel just a little excited.

“Alright,” he says. “I will allow you to show me proper thanks.”

He doesn’t expect Dimitri to wrap one arm around his back and the other beneath his knees, lifting him into a carry. And he’s not proud of the high-pitched yelp that comes out of him when it happens, but Dimitri is the only witness, so it isn’t so bad. Dimitri just laughs and carries Claude to his bedchamber, and Claude has to admit it’s all rather worth it.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading!
> 
> catch me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/blacktreecle) ~


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